


Fire Emblem: Masks

by theunderwolf6



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Light Sci-Fi, lots of swears, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22762795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunderwolf6/pseuds/theunderwolf6
Summary: Fire Emblem masks is a superhero AU of three houses centered on monastery city where the church of seiros is a theocratical mega corporation that rules fodlan through their "Knights" Superheroes with incredible powers. Edelgard is a woman with an icey heart and a grudge, but her life and crusade keeps leading her in the path of a woman with beautiful cobalt eyes
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1: Legend says El is a Spawn out of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Edelgard meets someone.

Edelgard, it bore mentioning, absolutely never went to convenience stores. Bodegas were anathema to her image. If anyone saw Edelgard in a somewhat scruffy looking store, kneeling down to take a can of dark blended tea from a fridge plastered with layered beer advertisements, they would assume a crack in reality had displaced her from the organic foods store she was slumming in, where she would rightfully be grabbing a thick glass bottle of kombucha. To put it simply, Edelgard smelled like money.

The cobalt-haired woman at the counter smelled like smoke but not in a bad way. Edelgard had caught a whiff of it when she walked in but was surprised that it wasn’t offensive like tobacco. Rather it smelled more earthy, like the woman had come to work after a weekend in the woods. She did look a bit tired and disheveled, with an ill fitting polo and khakis and chaotic tangled hair. But Edelgard just felt calm looking at her. The woman seemed impassive, but had a graceful way about her as she did small tasks around the counter. A cat jumped from her lap up to the collar of the ANNACONVEINT logo where it hung by the claws for a moment. The cashier’s expression didn’t change and carefully lifted the cat onto the counter where it settled into a gelatinous pile of fur. Gently the cashier reached out to pet it, and edelgard saw the light roughness of her hands that scratched the cat with incredible care. The cat yawned widely and the woman yawned back. Edelgard blinked, trying to memorize every detail of possibly the cutest thing she’d ever seen. 

When she had recomposed herself Edelgard brought the cashier her purchases. She watched the woman nonjudgmentally scan the tea, then the cherry strudel that was made of nothing but trans-fat, sugar and dreams. Edelgard however, was judgemental, or a little dumbstruck. The bluenette had a small nose and a sharp chin and was amazingly pretty but what really attracted Edelgard was how open she was. The casier felt so welcoming. There was no awkward stuttering of hands, just a serene look and a quiet checkout. To Edelgard, who spent most of her workdays or indeed most of her life, with closed off, scheming people, being near this woman just felt calm. The White haired CEO wanted to sink into the cashier’s sparkling blue eyes and snuggle herself into the calm like the cat who was contentedly napping a foot away from the register. Edelgard realized she was staring when she took an embarrassingly long time to take her change, a smattering of smaller gold. The cashier merely nodded at the stuttered thank you and as quickly as she arrived, Edelgard was gone.

Ten minutes later, Edelgard licked the sugary cherry-flavored gelatin off her finger and tossed the empty strudel wrapper into the small bag in the limo door. It was times like these when she was glad for the thick steel divider between her and the limo’s front seat. It wouldn't do for anyone to see the current CEO of Adrestia Trading Co. devouring her way through a two-gold pastry. She would not have her employees think of her in any way less than imposing. ATC maintained its reputation by being unflinching masters of business acumen, imports and steely-eyed boardroom sociopathy. Edelgard had been instructed since birth to show no weakness. She had flinched once and it would never happen again.

Still, after everything she would admit that it made dating difficult. If she was going to get that emotional over just a slightly pretty cashier though, maybe she should give it another try. It wasn’t as if she lacked suitors, and she was new in the city so the pool was new and had no links to the mess of exes she had left back in Adrestia. Monastery city could prove a fresh new start. The limo screeched and jostled Edelgard in her seat. Icily, and noting they were still on the highway, Edelgard pressed the call button. “What’s going on,” She asked, voice carrying a hint of disapproval.

“Traffic, Ms,” The driver, a perky young woman her HR had hired from the city piped back, “Scanner says there’s a gang shootout up the 100, the Knights of Seiros are on their way.”

A figure in white and silver flashed past, soaring like a bird through the air. A knight of Seiros in a suit of power armor and a suite of powers given to them by the goddess Seiros. By the silhouette, brief as the view she got was, Edelgard guessed it was Alois. A veteran of nearly a quarter century in the public eye, Alois had the monopoly of old school charm that made people think of older knights like The Bladebreaker or Fortress. He wasn’t nearly as popular as the new set whose superpowers and prettier faces charmed the unwashed masses; But he had a big smile and acted like someone out of a decades old comic fighting evil and lifting cars to save a fainting woman. Maybe he was a true believer, or maybe he was just a jaded one trick pony. It didn’t make a difference to Edelgard. All the knights did was act fancy and make a show of themselves, while ignoring the systematic rot that had sunk into the continent. All in service of the church and the billions in extorted tithes. Edelgard ground her teeth. Maybe Monastery city was the one that needed a fresh start.

* * *

Edelgard looked in the changing room mirror, the blouse looked good on her. She loved the ascott as well. She always liked having a frill on her chest ever since her private school allowed them in the dress code. She removed it and the blouse and flinched at the pain. Her bruises and cut, self treated, still stung. She had had a busy night fighting some particularly violent bandits and her hatred of painkillers reminded her whenever she moved her arms. She folded the blouse neatly and put it back in her basket, tacitly ignoring all the more utilitarian items. Ever since she had resolved to get more active she had found that she shredded through undershirts like a madwoman and that even exercise clothes didn’t last long. Getting date clothes at a high end mall was a nice cover for her ever expanding need though. She flinched at a gentle knock at the door.

“Ma’am there’s a five minute limit in the changing rooms,” Some staff members said.

Edelgard sighed, “I’ll be right out.”

Quickly she redonned her dress shirt, she had been hoping to linger, since shopping for date outfits was her only scheduled bit of fun for the entire day. Now with any excuse to linger gone, she had to go to her interminable meetings and then an interminable party where she’d have to stand alone in a sea of socialites in the name of making an appearance. She sighed as she turned out into the store and saw her. Sitting at the changing room desk, with an expression completely blank of emotion, was the woman from that morning. Calming, serene face, tousled blue hair and dark eyeshadow. Edelgard blinked and spun on a heel. It wasn’t impossible. Normal people had multiple jobs. But cute people didn’t have multiple jobs that put them in front of her. For a second Edelgard considered going up to her, then winking like a schoolgirl and saying something about destiny. There was something about those blue eyes that made her want to. But she was a professional. And the cobalt haired woman had two jobs which meant that she was… double professional. Edelgard went over ATC’s rules against workplace fraternization in her head as she left. Repeating the code like a mantra.

* * *

The party was of course, the worst. All around her, the wealthy sycophant class of Monastery city. The church, ever pure and above such petty gatherings had designed not to attend. Edelgard was not surprised. She herself would not have come if Victor Imports didn’t have a possible inroad to almyra. The eternal thorn in her side would not shut up about it so here she was, in a dress that hid her wounds and an expression that wasn’t not a smile. At least the drinks were good. She swirled the sidecar in her hand. Perfectly made, just the right amount of sweet and bitter. Bitter was the note of the day though.

“Why Edelgard I did not think you would attend this fete!” The bane of her existence said with his usual pomp smugness.

“I thought I told you I would Ferdinand,” She said icily, you said it was ‘vital to the future of my- I mean your- company.’ ” She would’ve made air quotes but that would require letting go of her glass. She would hate to drop the cocktail, as she never had more than one during business.

“Yes well you’d ducked out of so many obligations lately that I-” Edelgard cut him off with a glance.

“Last week you said I worked too hard, so I delegated.”

“Fine fine, let me have all the glory, people will soon see I would be the better pick for CEO.”

Edelgard sighed. That old line. The ATC had been in her family for generations yet Ferdinand dreamed, out loud, of taking it. If he wasn’t too useful to fire she’d demote him but alas, the Aegir family produced nothing but excellent managers. Much to her displeasure.

“I think I heard Nasio wanted to speak with you Ferdinand,” She said pointedly. It wasn’t a lie as the slimy Victor Imports CEO did say he’d love to make further inroads with  _ you  _ which she chose to interpret as the royal you meaning she would delegate it.

“Ah yes, finally I will secure us a place in the Almyran market and you’ll have no choice to recognise my acumen.”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow but kept her mouth shut, watching the tall man walk over to the meter and a half tall stack of grease. Disgusting. She would rather be anywhere outside, taking in the night air, working towards a more tangible goal then some future promise of a difficult market. She ordered another drink and stepped into a corner, trading niceties with all the sycophants that passed by while making it clear that she didn’t want to converse. The hours flicked by. She ordered another drink. As the party grew quieter people’s lips had become looser and she heard rumours of bandits being cleared out, not by the police or knights, but by something else. Good, she was accumulating a reputation.

The night didn’t last long after that, slowly most of the party goers left. It was a dull affair overall. No fights, no scandals, just far too many people with nothing to lose and nothing to gain from each other. The most interesting thing was the constant hierarchy of whose house was the most sprawling and appropriately designed. Edelgard wanted to slam her cocktail glass into someone's face. It was empty again, a rare second time. With the exiting guests, maybe she could slip in a third. A little tipsy, she slipped onto a stool.

“Excuse me?” She asked, not seeing any employees, “Could I have another sidecar.”

There was a moment of quiet, Edelgard looked around her, not seeing any employees or even other guests. There was a click of glass that made her start, followed by a slow blank voice, “Here you are Ms.” Edelgard’s head snapped back, recognizing the voice immediately. 

It was her again. “Three times!” She blurted at the woman, “That’s three times today!”

“Pardon Ms?” It was barely a question, the woman’s tone only slightly raised.

“How many jobs do you have?” Edelgard exclaimed, pushing herself up to look the beautiful woman in the eyes. She was tall, she had only seen the woman sitting but standing, she was a head taller than Edelgard, just tall enough for Edelgard to nuzzle into her neck with ease.

“One.” The bluenette said, interrupting the tipsy musing.

“But this morning you were working at a convenience store, and then the mall then…”

“Ah.” The woman blinked slowly, “You got the cherry strudel.”

Edelgard downed her drink. Thank the many gods no one else was around to hear that.

“I do only have one job,” The woman said, completely unabashed at the sudden swig, “I work for Mercenary Services.

Edelgard connected it instantly, “The Temp company?”

The woman nodded and Edelgard flicked her eyes to her empty glass, “You’re quite good at bartending for a temp.”

A shrug, “I have a lot of skills, only way to make a living doing temp work.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense… can I get another one,” Edelgard said, feeling a little bold. This woman already knew she was a mess,a completely unprofessional emotional wreck who liked cherry strudel.

“Last call was an hour ago,” The woman informed her.

“Then why,” Edelgard looked at the drink served well less than an hour ago.

“You looked like you need it.”

Edelgard sighed, “Am I that obvious?”

“No, I’m just good at this.” There wasn’t even a hint of ego or gloating in her voice. Not a hint of anything really. Edelgard hoped no tone was good tone.

The young CEO groaned, “Is listening one of your skills?”

“Yes,” The quiet woman said.

“I just moved to this city, a month ago. I’ve worked for most of it which used to be fine but…” Edelgard started, finger circling the empty glass and staring at the other woman. She was wearing a very tight hugging dress shirt and vest, with a silky pencil skirt. She was absolutely gorgeous, full figured yet she could see every muscle hard temp work had got her. Her hands again, moved smoothly over the glass. Her tie was a little crooked, in an endearing way. Edelgard could watch her hands clean glass for eons. Edelgard continued, hoping the woman would be distracted from her naked admiration. Maybe she was more tipsy than she thought.

“ I have an assistant back home in Adrestia. A bunch of reliable subordinates, people who… they aren’t my friends but… the closest thing I could have.”

Edelgard looked up, the woman still had that same passive look. No sympathy, no judgement, just eye contact and a small nod every once in a while. The perfect wall for Edelgard to vent at.

“Now I’m just here surrounded by people I don’t care about helping the one subordinate I dislike to get a trade deal. I came here to try and help rebuild this city but I’m running against a brick wall! So here I am, in this godforsaken city with no friends and no one I care about.I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

The woman nodded. “So you're full of shit.” The beautiful cobalt haired woman said to the most powerful women under 30 (according to Fodlanz Starz 30 under 30 list).

“Hm,” Edelgard said a little surprised but more drunk.

“You bought a cherry strudel this morning. In a dirty convenience store. In 500$ heels.”

“So?”

“It was cool. You knew what you wanted and you got it. No tittering or making excuses.”

“What?” Edelgards foggy head was barely keeping up with that leap.

“You’ll excuse me, I’m still on shift and well, I don’t say this right. But you are…” The woman paused as if trying to remember something, “A bad bitch.” She concluded, the tone still flat.

Edelgard burst out laughing. She could never imagine anyone calling her that to her face, in a completely neutral tone.

“Is that ridiculous?” The bartender/many-other-things asked.

“Pft… no! I just, how?”

“You don’t do anything you don’t want to, and you wanted to help this, not-friend.”

“I suppose I did, I still can’t stand him though.”

“That’s probably fine. Talk to people around you more. They’ll probably like you.”

“What makes you say that?” Edelgard said a little warm in the cheeks.

“You're very likable.” The woman said, without any hesitation.

Edelgard began to heat up, she needed to go before she did something scandalous.

“Oh well, thank you,” She stuttered, “I-I-I should get going before I talk your ear off.”

“I didn’t mind listening, here,” The beautiful woman said, pushing a card across the bar.

Edelgard looked at it. Byleth, her name was Byleth. The card had a simple phone number and an @MercTemp email.

“Oh well alright can you settle my tab I,” Edelgard started but Byleth, such a pretty name, shook her head. There was a glint in her deep blue eyes, something mischievous.

“Host paid for the open bar, this is all on him,” She said.

Edelgard nodded a little too quickly, turned on a heel and left. An hour later she collapsed into bed, screaming into a pillow. She didn’t even tell Byleth her name. She was the biggest idiot in Fodlan.

* * *

The Flame Emperor Armor wasn’t near as heavy as it looked, but that didn’t stop it from crushing through the drywall like it was tissue paper. She cut through a ganger with one wide swing of her axe. The reduced a shelf of contraband into splinters. Three more gang members ran at her as bisected money rained from the ruined shelf. Edelgard had gotten word early that one of the many networks of undergangs had robbed a church, making off with nearly a million dollars in bills and relics. The knights hadn’t found them yet, but Eddelgard had followed their trail and now she had a real chance to show the knights up. The gang members were sacrifices, and not innocent ones. The Flame Emperor would use them to fire the first shot in the war against the church. Besides they were just as willing to return the favor. They came at her with swords, lances knives and crossbows, but with a cleave of her massive axe they all fell away. She stepped into the hall, now littered with bodies and looked around her.

A door slammed to her left and she chased the sound. Not caring for niceties she felt the thick metal mend then shatter under the force of her charge, sending shards flying into a parking lot. The lot hadn’t been marked on the street map or building blueprints, something was wrong. As her eyes adjusted to the dark orange light, she saw a single man with a duffel bag jump into a small, beat up looking hatchback. She stepped forward to give chase then paused. In front of her a mob of hooded and masked goons assembled baring weapons both lethal and improvised. From their center, a man stepped forward. The flame emperor grinned under his impassive mask. Kostas, a wanted criminal and leader of the redbellies. What  _ Luck  _ She could not ask for a better way to establish his name.

“And what donkey-breeding dastard is this!” He yelled, “The almyran didn’t say shit about any codpiece crashing us.”

The flame emperor almost laughed, “I am no knight of seiros, Kostas. I am the flame emperor, and I will rid this city of your filth by flame if need be. Drop your weapons and I will deliver you to the custody of the police”

“Ha, Kill the man before he tries to form another dim thought lads!” Kostas called. The Flame Emperor's eyes narrowed, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. All ten of the grunts charged her at once. She caught the first one with her axe, slicing him nearly in twain. The wide swing left her open and two spears shattered against her armor. The emperor grunted, impact still felt in the armor, but he felt his power flicker to life as another swing from his axe sucked the magic from the massive ruptures it inflicted upon the spearmen. A shorter swing, and he drew the axe back in quickly, in time to catch a sword on its haft. Kicking the swordsman away, he swung the axe straight down, bisecting a man and sending a seismic fault through the floor as the axe sunk into the asphalt, heating it by the magical energy that was gathering in the weapon.

Stunned by the display, the rest of the gang members dropped their weapons and ran. Good enough, they’d spread the word.

“Wh-wh-what the hell are you!” Kostas screamed and turned to run. He rammed straight into a shadowy figure, one that had evaded the flame emperor’s gaze.

“You’re back! That damn almyran actually held up his end of the bargain!” kostas said gleefully, “You need to take care of this guy for me ok!”

The figure nodded, still silent.

Kostas ran. The Flame emperor considered chasing him, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. The shadowed figure was powerful, and it would not show any weakness. They stepped from the shadows, and the emperor noted that they shared a taste in fashion. A massive overcoat obscured the person,a hood covered their face, and a visor covering any features. They stepped forward, gloved arm reaching down and picking up a crowbar from a fallen man. The flame emperor relaxed for a fraction of a second, the shadow didn’t even have a real weapon. 

A fraction of a second was too long.

The shadow moved with unnatural speed, cloak flapping out as they were instantly within the flame emperor’s reach. There was a nasty crunch, and the flame emperor’s arm exploded with pain as the crowbars tines ripped through the magic armor and into his arm. Clenching his teeth, the emperor swung out her left fist, only finding empty air as the shadow darted back. Enraged, the flame emperor charged forward swinging the massive axe, only for the shadow to easily glide around it, and again shatter the emperor’s armor, this time with a blow that merely bruised his upper leg. The emperor grunted. What the hell was this thing? It wasn’t even wearing armor or using a real weapon. Enraged, the emperor again released a flurry of short strokes that the shadow weaved through easily. He finished by swinging her massive weapon straight down in the same stroke that had shattered the floor. The figure caught the axe with its crowbar, and with a flick of their wrist spent the weapon spinning away from the pair. The Flame Emperor’s breath caught in her throat when the figure returned the earlier favor, fist slamming into the Flame Emperor’s mask.

The flame emperor jumped back, no matter what he could not, he would not be unmasked. Lifting a hand he felt the massive crack on his mask, it was holding together but any jostling would make it fall apart. There was a moment of quiet as the shadow regarded him, The Flame Emperor returned the eyeless glower. Then he heard it, Sirens. Not close but getting closer. The shadow looked askance, then ran, vanishing as it slipped up the ramp to the street. The flame emperor ducked for his axe and activated his teleport magic, vanishing in a flash of light.

The flame emperor landed in a dumpster, rolled over and landed facedown in the alley, finally shattering his mask. The rushed teleport after such a draining battle was inaccurate and now Edelgard could barely move. Her mask was gone and she could see blood seeping from her arm. She had planned to go back into her street clothes in the alley and walk to her apartment. Clearly that was no longer an option. She had no idea what to do, and she just sat, paralyzed in the alley. She needed someone, a ride, a car. Someone trustworthy. For a moment she remembered deep blue eyes but, no. She couldn’t she had no idea who this Byleth even was. She needed leverage, someone she could trust but keep an eye on.

_ “Talk to people around you more. They’ll probably like you.” _

Edelgard bit her lip, and pulled her phone from the belt of her armor and dialed from memory.

“It’s me, I’m sorry it’s late but I need you at this location…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised 3/12 for reasons. Hope you enjoyed any comments, kudos and otherwise are loved and appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2 No cryin' here, just do your dirt and disappear  Don't get captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shamir is Hung over, Edelgard recruits a car gay and Claude tries to get an old friend back in his schemes.

Chapter 2 No cryin' here, just do your dirt and disappear 

Don't get captured

* * *

8:13 AM 

* * *

Detective Shamir Nevrand was hung over, armed with only a coffee, a savory twist and a custom made crossbow and ready to kill anything too noisy. She had spent the night on her couch watching travel documentaries and drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. It was supposed to be her weekend dammit. But no apparently the chief of police requested her specifically and on no uncertain terms. 

“It’s church shit, you deal with church shit.” He had growled.

He was right but she only dealt with them in the capacity that they seemed to like her for some reason. Tried to recruit her even. Shamir was just fine with actual police work. The idea of herself in a silvery suit of armor made the dagdan woman want to gag.

Since her home country lost the war in Brigid she knew that she had to keep her head down and do an excellent job. There was no other way to make sure no one tried to hang her out to dry as some sort of spy. Even out of Adrestia no one trusted a dagdan. All this attention she was getting from the church did not help that. Locking herself away with alcohol and foreign films was. 

She ducked under the police tape and pulled out her phone, taking some personal photos so she could better get a feel for the place later. At first glance the underground parking lot seemed pretty normal. A sterile asphalt tunnel lead down into a small lot with room for maybe thirty cars. Shamir noticed it as odd immediately however. First, no security cameras, anywhere. In a city as crime attractant as Monastery no cameras was a way to get robbed or more likely, whoever owned the place didn’t want there to be footage. There were plenty of watchmen now though. Three police vehicles and an ambulance were parked in a semicircle beyond yellow caution tape, with a few officers milling about. The CSI people were at work and the only thing that interrupted the dim orange light of the lot’s night lamps were flashes of white as the techies took their own pictures. Shamir waved a young uniform she recognized over as she slowly approached the scene. Even with her aviators the cameras were killing her eyes.

“So who got killed?” Shamir asked, no way the chief pulled her in for overtime if there weren’t bodies.

“Gangers,” Officer Connely said quickly, he was used to the brusque detective, even seemed to respect her unlike the rest of the uniforms. “Facial recognition puts them as Beach Sharks.”

Shamir arrived at the bodies, three of them, all killed messily with a heavy sword or axe. She checked their necks, sure enough all three had some manner of shark themed tattoo. One of which featured the archbishop in a heratecaly obscene tableau. She gagged. Beach Sharks were always one of the more disgusting gangs in the city. A bunch of tequila headed dudebros whipped into shape by Kostas into a private army.

“So what am I here for,” Shamir asked Connely. The chief wouldn’t call her if it was just some ganger bodies being dropped.

“Look over there,” Connely pointed and Shamir cocked an eyebrow, the floor was shattered. “We got a call about a seismic disturbance around 1 am this morning, a squad car found three dead and a shattered floor. And to put the cherry on top…”

“Let me guess, no knights jumped up to take responsibility.” Shamir sighed. Living in a theocracy complicated her job to no end. Though the police and the knights were both granted the powers of arrest and detain, knights could basically do whatever they wanted, which usually shook out to whatever The Church wanted. But according to the spirit of the law they were supposed to tell the cops. 

Shamir took a sip of coffee, then sighed. This was going to be annoying. She could feel it in her gut. And what her gut felt was the tremor from above her. A knight, no doubt coming to explain it all.

And why in the goddess’s name did it have to be her. The knight had jumped down into the lot, sword on her back, then took off her helm, revealing coarse blonde hair, tan skin, and a wide smile.

“Officers” She waved, walking over to greet the very excited uniforms. Catherine was always a hit with the people. A natural athlete, the most powerful sword in the world, zealous faith and an even more zealous devotion to the archbishop made her a superstar. Shamir tensed at the thought. She hadn’t seen Catherine since… 

“Hey Shamir!” Catherine had seen her and called her out by name, and shamir felt her stomach drop off a cliff.

All unabated the memories came rushing back. Catherine, uncomfortable in a cocktail dress seated in a dive bar. Catherine underneath her, hair fanning into the sun on Shamir’s bed as the cool woman reached down to drink in the heat. An empty apartment, void of her smile a week after Shamir convinced herself she had met the love of her life. Catherine had just left a note saying that she was in love with another woman. 

And then a week later Catherine on TV, looking up at the Archbishop with the adoration that had been Shamir’s until then.

“Catherine.” Shamir said icily, they had worked together professionally since. Catherine still wanted to be friends after. Shamir was sure she never wanted to have friends again. Still the knight came calling whenever she needed someone with a lick of sense. And Shamir kept stonewalling every try.

“This one of yours?” Shamir tilted her head at the shattered ground.

“Yes, officially,” Catherine said, nodding, “But between us no. it wasn’t.”

Shamir suspected that her eyes couldn’t get any narrower, “Abyss?” She asked, feeling like she knew where she was going.

“Not a peep from them,” Catherine confirmed.

“No other gangs?”

“No magical weapons that could shatter an entire floor like this, we’d be able to sense them.”

“So. Something new, new enough that the church is reaching down to the lil mundane police for help.”

“No,” Catherine shook her head, “Just you, the church is officially making you our liaison with the police for this case. It’s completely off the books, just you and chief Donovan know.”

“You're lucky I care too much about not having someone that powerful off a leash.”

“Yes, we all are.” Catherine finished and turned around, “Enjoy your weekend Shamir.”

Shamir didn’t return the sentiment. 

* * *

Seven Hours Earlier

* * *

“What the fuck,” Dorothea said, looking at her boss, “What the fuck.”

Dorothea had seen a lot of things. Dorothea had seen someone do a handstand while sipping a margarita and flirting with a couple. Dorothea had seen someone drunkenly explain the theory of gravity to her to the tune of a church hymn. Dorothea had not seen her boss, the CEO of a real ass _company_ , in a suit of edgy armor, in a grimy alley, bleeding from her arm.

Again, Dorothea repeated her new mantra. “What the fuck.”

“Are you capable of saying anything else?” Edelgard Von Hraesvelg, 21st in line for the (ceremonial) throne of the Adrestian Democratic Empire, said.

“No. What.The. Fuck.” Dorothea near yelled.

“I’ll explain everything on the way, but first…” Edelgard started to try and rise to her feet.

“Oh goddess right, bleeding, sorry,” Dorothea said, rushing over to help Edelgard up, her concern over-riding the bizarre nature of the situation. “I took my car here, you said quick and mine was closer so I’ll get you to a hospital…”

“No… no hospital,” Edelgard grunted as Dorothea led her out to a round ladybug-shaped car. Gently, Dorothea helped her boss onto the hot-pink-shag cushioned seat. She slid over the hood to jump into the driver’s seat then looked at her boss. Edelgard was pale, bleeding over Dorothea’s seats and staring at her intensely. 

“Where then?” Dorothea asked as the car grumpily spun to life like a resentful waking cat.

“My manor, I have treatment there,” Edelgard groaned, “Break some speed limits.”

Dorothea looked at the road, then adjusted her cap. She didn’t think the night would be _fun_.

* * *

“When I said break a few speed limits I didn’t mean doing 90 on a freeway,” Edelgard groaned, still holding a pink towel Dorothea had fished from the center console over her arm.

“Sorry boss, I guess I couldn’t help letting loose, I never really get to drive for fun anymore.” Dorothea was grinning like a maniac, and Edelgard had long ago concluded that being in the car with her was scarier than fighting gangers. Dorothea drove like a madwoman when she had the wont. The flatter more observational side of Edelgard noticed that her limo driver would make an excellent racer. The Edelgard who had a hole in her arm and felt like most of her blood was on a fluffy pink towel, was terrified. 

“Turn off the main road here, the back road is smoother than it looks,” Edelgard groaned as Dorothea slowly turned through branches that smacked against the windshield. 

The road was as smooth and silent as Edelgard said and Dorothea pulled into an underground garage, hidden by the scenery of the Hraesvelg estate. The garage was huge and Dorothea could immediately tell why. It was a base of some kind. Massive computer. Armor, mannequins, training dummies and other work out equipment. “So um boss,” Dorothea said slowly, helping Edelgard out of the car, “You trying to be a superhero?”

Edelgard sighed, “Key word is trying I suppose, but yes.”

Dorothea carefully helped the woman onto a stool as Edelgard triggered the release of her armor. It emitted a low hiss of escaping magic and releasing pneumatics, as Edelgard shook it off, then motioned for Dorothea to help her with the chestpiece. It was surprisingly heavy, and the driver dropped the hunk of metal and machinery as soon as Edelgard had managed to get it detached.

“So,” Edelgard said, minutes later as she sat unnervingly still under Dorothea's careful stitching. Again the woman was full of surprises, Dorothea claimed it wasn’t the first stab wound she’d treated and by the apparent care and skill, Edelgard could tell. “You’re one of two people that know about this little venture now. What are you going to do?” 

“I thought about it while I was driving honestly,” Drothea said, “I just have one question. Why?”

Edelgard sighed. It was a complicated question. Dorothea was a random employee who she had hired a month ago, someone Edelgard shouldn’t trust. But she deserved the truth. Edelgard thought about it, trying to not remember the pain.

“The church has done more harm than good,” Edelgard said, “They have too much power, too much control and too much money that they siphon off into opulence for their bishops and secret cardinals. I want to be an actual hero.”

“Huh,” Dorothea considered for a moment, “I won’t tell anyone about this, and I won’t take any money for it on two conditions.”

Edelgard looked at her warily, “Which are…?”

“I want time off so I can book singing gigs,” Edelgard raised an eyebrow but waved for her to continue, Dorothea had a smug looking smile though, “And I want to help you, be your super-PA. No costumes but you get cut up or need a getaway car? I’m your girl.”

Edelgard was struck dumb, she was expecting a raise or a cushy corperate job. “Why do you even want to help? It won’t be fun, and it’s very illegal.”

Dorothea shrugged, “You really have no idea do you,” The brunette let out a long sigh, “I was sent to juvie for street racing at fifteen. I was raised by a theater crew that had moved on when I got out. I had a GED and a criminal record. I’ve been job hopping for years and I walk into ATC and don’t see a little box asking if I have a record. They said the boss was cold but I had a job where I could drive and sing along to the radio.”

Edelgard suddenly remembered that the privacy screen in her limo was soundproof, and wondered what went on up there.

“I get paid better than any other driver in the city,” Dorothea continued, “all the benefits I could want. Honestly before all this,” Dorothea waved at the armor, “You were already pretty damn heroic. I don’t know why you hate them so much but it wasn’t the church that pulled me out of poverty. It was your company.”

Edelgard hoped that Dorothea would interpret the blush to her wound. 

“I’ll keep you close,” Edelgard stated, “You’ll be my gofer and PA, you’ll have a lot of off time but I’ll expect a lot, if you’re sure.”

Dorothea smiled and extended a hand, “Sounds like a deal boss!”

Edelgard emerged from her spartan room at seven a.m and stumbled towards the kitchen, looking blearily at the tea that was already in a mug, still steaming hot. For a moment she wondered if the early time was making her hallucinate, until her head swung towards the kitchen table, where Dorothea lounged, hair down and wearing a silk dressing gown some sycophant had bought Edelgard years ago. It was tight around her, and the white haired woman had trouble dragging her eyes away from her employee’s gracefully folded legs and up to her eyes. Dorothea’s eyes were thankfully occupied with a smartphone and her own mug of tea. 

“Good morning…?” Edelgard said blearily, sitting down across from the driver.

“Morning boss,” Dorothea said, eyes finally flicking away from her phone and to Edelgards expression, “What’s the matter, not used to having your 2am dial still around for cuddles in the morning?”

Edelgard spluttered on her coffee and was suddenly very awake, “Ex-ex-excuse me?!”

Dorothea giggled before she coyly bit her lip, “Oh dear goddess no one told me you’d be so easy to tease, though it is before your caffeine…”

Edelgard grumbled, mornings were always terrible, especially when she had to try not to stare at the way Dorothea’s hair curled like a waterfall.

Fifteen minutes later Edelgard’s expression was like a glacier as she strode out of the front door towards a circle of her family’s cars. Dorothea followed behind her, phone gone and smiling brightly. 

“Should I go run ahead and grab the limo boss?” Dorothea asked and Edelgard turned, still not entirely sure. Dorothea was a wild card she had not expected. Edelgard couldn’t see herself opening up to anyone, but opening a little place for the driver had been nice. Dorothea would never be her confidant. But she could be a friend. She knew that when Dorothea looked at her the same way both before and after Edelgard humiliated herself. So the white haired woman made her decision.

“We’re not taking the limo,” Edelgard told her, face completely blank, then tossed Dorothea a new set of keys. “I figured you’d want something more… fun.”

Dorothea gaped at the keys then looked up at Edelgard, pointing to the logo like it wasn’t real. Edelgard nodded, a small smile breaking through the cold expression.

The Riegan Barbarossa was not the most expensive supercar on the market. But every gearhead in Fodlan knew it was the best. Edelgard drove it once, just to spite Ferdinand, but she honestly didn’t care for driving much. The car made a sound and turned well. That was all she could really tell. Dorothea on the other hand, made the Barbarossa dance. Edelgard’s hands were gripping her seat and her face was impassive, but internally? She was screaming. Not entirely from fear though. Dorothea was a superb driver who took the supercar through traffic like a needle through cloth. Unlike the ladybug her new PA owned, the Barbarossa was built for drivers like Dorothea so it was slightly less heart attack inducing.

45 harrowing minutes later, Dorothea pulled in front of the ATC building and Edelgard stepped out of the car, coat swinging behind her as she entered through the sliding glass door. The receptionist nodded then resumed trying to avoid eye contact as Edelgard entered the elevator. It was smooth and quick, a detail Edelgard insisted on in all her buildings. She loathed slow elevators. Quick as she liked, the elevator took her to the top floor of the building, an area entirely devoted to executive offices. Her office was rather large, practically an apartment in fact. Notably though, the second desk, the one right outside her office door was vacant. Stacks of papers and calendars formed a mountain of undone work. 

Edelard looked behind it, and the 2500 gold office chair she had bought on the request of her secretary bore a simple sign, written in red marker on her personal calendar: I Quit.

Edelgard sighed. It was so hard to find good help. Hiring a good enough secretary could take months her unsorted appointments didn’t have, and a lot of sleepless nights. She could just ask Dorothea to do it but she didn’t want a part timer, and she’d prefer someone more experienced riding the desk. She sat at her own, solid wooden slab of a desk and closed her eyes. Someone multi-talented and willing to work long days. Someone with pretty eyes and a smile she’d want to see everyday. Edelgard caught herself. Apparently she had already decided. She pulled the business card from her wallet and dialed the number.

* * *

The Western Charge was infamous in the annals of military history as a terrible idea. A glory hounding cavalry charge into the unmoving wall of the Adrestian army conducted from the west at the crack of dawn on horses that had been riding for an entire day and night. A western charge then, was adopted as a figure of speech for “A bad idea too early in the morning”. Claude had opened the bar with his friend Hilda a year ago. It opened at four in the morning and closed at six in the evening, if there were no events to be had. Hilda had been doubtful but Claude insisted that the oft ignored graveyard shift workers and day drinkers needed a place to unwind. It stayed afloat, which worked just fine for Claude, as he had other work, in the evenings. Now, at nearly 9, he swaggered into the dimly lit dive to see a familiar blue mess of hair.

Bylath was a fixture at the bar, though unlike most of the regulars she never engaged in conversation. Claude was fine with that. In the half decade he’d ‘known’ Byleth she’d never spoken more then twelve words and never betrayed a thought from her drowsy face. He did however, know they were friends. Byleth was an odd nut, but not a difficult one. Claude had just learned that she prefered to listen and never did anything she didn’t want to do. Claude was the only person he knew that Byleth seemed to appear around. Claude was flattered by that unspoken compliment. 

She looked tired though, Byleth always seemed drowsy but with the dark circles around her eyes she looked downright insomniac. They had been busy over the last few nights. 

“Well teach,” The nickname he’d given the poly-talented woman, “We got what we wanted.”

He gently placed a cloth bundle on the bar and uncovered it. An ancient grimoire, stolen from the church. Claude had been told it contained some juicy heresies and had spent months setting up a retrieval. Byleth nodded, but Claude could imagine she looked pensive for a split second.

“What, was just one fight too much for you Teach?” Byleth shook her head, they both knew that if the jane of all trades was a master of anything, it was fighting.

“Well then to a job well done!” Claude declared happily, clinking a full bottle of wine against her unattended water before drinking it straight from the bottle.

“This isn’t over though,” Claude told her as he stroked the grimoire like it was a puppy, “You up to make more money?”

Byleth actually deigned him with words, “You said once.”

“It’s nothing troublesome but I do want your help. I’m nothing without you teach.”

Byleth gave him an inscrutable look, and opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a loud bleeping jingle from her pocket. She pulled out her ancient flip phone and snapped it open.

“Byleth,” She said instantly, then listened intently for a moment. Claude wondered if he had drank too much, because Byleth’s pale cheeks looked a little rosie and she, terrifyingly, seemed to have a smile on her face. 

“I’ll be there,” Byleth finished, and hung up on whoever it was.

Claude leaned over, lying bodily on the bar to scrutinize the bluenette’s face, “Who got you so hot under the collar teach?”

“I have a new job, apparently a permanent one,” Byleth said and sadly, her face had gone back to her customary blank drowsiness, “See you.”

Byleth stood up to leave, leaning down to take a duffel bag from the floor.

“I’ll take care of your other uniform for you,” Claude volunteered. Byleth thought for a moment then handed him the bag, “I do miss your old one though, it had more flair.”

Byleth looked at him, and Claude sighed, “Yeah, Yeah, see you later Teach.” Byleth left the bar and Claude took a moment to peek inside the bag. The black coat and black-visored helmet had been hastily stuffed inside and Claude resolved to iron the coat for her. He knew he could charm his teach into putting it on again and he prefered doing crime with flair. Underneath the two, he saw a dear old friend. A massive knife, with a demonic head painted on the sheath. Whether she could admit it or not, the Ashen Demon still had fangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay chapter 2 any love and comments are appreciated and I hope you enjoyed yourself. Much love to the Ashen Gays for keeping me motavated.


End file.
